


Écho du passé

by endlesseternities



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera - Gaston Leroux
Genre: Angst, Canon Relationship, Comfort, F/M, Forehead Kisses, Love, Memories, Nightmares, Roughness, Tears, Whispers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-12-18 03:37:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11865861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/endlesseternities/pseuds/endlesseternities
Summary: Raoul revives Christine from one of her nightmares as she remembers what happened ten years earlier in 1890, deep down below in the lair of the not-so-fabled Phantom. Excerpt from my undergoing fanfiction for the novel itself.





	Écho du passé

**Author's Note:**

> Christine is still dark blonde-haired and with blue eyes; Raoul is dark brown-haired with green eyes. In this version, they've already been married for ten years and this is set in 1900. I've based Christine's features off of myself because I'm literally indebted to a character like her. She's my favorite and I would have to say that a young Tom Cruise would be my Raoul.

His face was still there as I dreamed. It was chiseled, cold, and perhaps even broken. Those were the shapes that gave the retort of sadness. I outstretched a hand and protested for him not to hurt me. But all my attempts, it seemed in a shallow manner, were in vain as he grabbed me violently by the arms.

_“You betrayed me! To be with a handsome little victome! To be with a boy who has not even begun to fashion himself a man! How could you, Christine? How!”_

_“Erik, please!”_

But in my dream, he gripped me harder. His hands put such pressure upon me that I nearly fainted. In my bed, I tossed and turned. My heart raced as it had those very nights nearly four years ago. I was reliving all that I had experienced. My dark blonde hair clung to my face through a sheen of sweat. It felt as if I were alone and in my dream, I remember how he made me wear that dress fashioned of silk.

It was as heavy as I remember, fashioned in the form asymmetric and white. The train alone was of seven feet in length and wherever I would run, it would cling in its two large pleats, in the swirl of silver-gold along the edges. While it was beautiful, I felt as if it were a prison. A prison in which he had pictured me a thousand times over. Perhaps he had imagined me in innocence but who was I to know?

Still, his voice rang inside my head.

_“Christine, don’t turn your back on me! You’ve done that enough! Face me and what you will be wed to for all eternity! Please, I beg you to stay! Christine, Christine!”_

I kept running. I hadn’t the heart to look back, but nevertheless, I paused. My feet stopped me where I stood and at the edge of the lake, my gown began to drift against its waters. The black Italian gondola was there and it was so close that I could feel it. It was there but this time, the scenario of Raoul and the mysterious Persian did not happen as it did those years before. It was only Erik and I in the dark.

I finally found the courage to turn my head. Looking over my shoulder, I saw Erik adorned in his haunting Red Death costume. It was decrepit-looking and the same as it was the night of the masquerade gala. Beneath the rim of his enormous red hat, his eyes showed. The large red feather did not hold its sway either. The faintness of the wind brushed against me, and in my dream, it seemed real. I felt my mattress sink around me. I felt as if I were drowning then and could not breathe at all.

“No! No!” I screamed.

Beside me then, I heard Raoul’s voice.

“Christine, wake up! Christine, you’re dreaming!”

But I couldn’t, no. The dream had to be complete though a night-mare it was. Erik started to walk towards me and I turned completely then to face him. My hands were shaking and my pulse was racing. There felt like there was no air to inhale. His long skeletal hand stretched out to touch me, and at last, I could no longer feign my fear--- it had come true. The lake behind me in the night-mare consumed me then but as I awoke, screaming and weeping, Raoul took me into his arms as we sat up in our large bed. He wrapped me close and the scent of the evening air allowed me to jolt awake.

“Christine, my wife--- What happened? Tell me.”

“It was just a dream, Raoul,” replied I. “I swear once you’ve held me, I shall be myself again.”

I shook my head and stared into his beautiful green eyes. I threw my arms around his neck and sobbed into his throat. His arms encased me still and as I looked past him, shuddering, shaking, a breath left me as I looked at the mirror upon the wall. Its silver Baroque frame was gleaming and for an instant, I swore Erik was about to appear from behind its glass.


End file.
